The Princess and the Player. Kat Cantrell
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flirt with Will, the way she normally did on a date, or would that just lead to him taking her up on it, when she wasn’t even sure she wanted him to? Maybe she should just be herself, but what if Will hated her immediately? Would her father lay another guilt trip on her?
All of this second-guessing was making her nuts. She wasn’t with James, and everyone—including James—wanted her to make nice with the proper Rowling. Yeah, she’d looked up James last night, finding far more information about him than she’d expected, and little of it would fit the definition of the word proper.
No one, not even James, had thought it relevant to mention the man was a professional soccer—football in Europe, apparently—player. Since he appeared to have quite a bit of fame, maybe he’d assumed she already knew. Regardless, bad press followed James around like it did her. No wonder her father had nearly had a heart attack when she mentioned James’s name. He was the very opposite of the proper brother.
Proper pretty much covered Will’s personality. Five minutes in, and judging by the stiff set of Will’s shoulders, he wasn’t as much of a fun time as his brother. Hopefully, she’d judged wrong and would soon discover otherwise.
“Thanks,” she responded. “I’ve only seen the coast and a bit of Del Sol. Why don’t you pick, since this is your home?”
“No problem.” He shot her a small but pained smile, cluing her in that this whole set up might be as difficult for him as it was for her.
She should give him a break. “So, Will. How long have you lived in Alma?”
An innocuous enough subject, hopefully, and given the brothers’ accents, it was a safe bet they hadn’t been born here.
“Since I was seven. My father moved us here from England.”
“Oh, that must have been quite an adventure.”
She’d lived in Miami her whole life and living someplace new did have appeal for that reason alone. If only this arranged marriage business hadn’t soured the experience of coming to Alma, she’d be having a blast. And that was why she still didn’t think of it as her home... She still reserved the right to go back to Miami and play aunt instead of princess if the royal pressure grew too great.
Though with Tía Isabella’s arrival in Alma, going home held much less appeal.
Will’s face remained expressionless, but he tapped his pinky on the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm as he drove north out of Playa Del Onda along the coastal road that circled the main island.
“The move was difficult,” he said shortly and paused so long, she wasn’t sure he planned to continue. But then he said, “My mother had just died.”
“I’m sorry,” Bella murmured. “That would be difficult on young boys.”
All at once, she realized this was James’s history as well as Will’s. And now she was absurdly interested in learning more. The gorgeous deep blues of the bay unfurled as far as the eye could see on her right but she ignored the spectacular view in favor of watching Will.
“Thanks.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and double-checked the side mirrors before changing lanes. Will Rowling might very well be the most careful driver she’d ever met. “Look, let’s just get all of it out on the table, shall we?”
“Depends on what you mean by all and table,” she countered, a little puzzled by his abrupt change of subject.
Was this the part of the date where he expected her to air all her dirty laundry? She’d never had a long-term relationship, never wanted one, never thought about what went into establishing a foundation for one. Maybe they were supposed to spill deep, dark secrets right off the bat. She was so not on board with that.
“About the arranged marriage,” he clarified. “We should clear the air.”
“I’m not a lesbian looking for a fake husband and I don’t have a crazy uncle chained up in the closet, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”
He flashed a brief smile, the most genuine one yet, giving her a glimpse of what he might be like if he loosened up a little. “I wasn’t fishing. I meant, I wanted to tell you that marriage wasn’t my idea. I’m not after your title or your fortune.”
“Oh. Then what are you after?”
The smile vanished as his expression smoothed out into the careful nothingness he’d worn since the first moment. “Aligning myself with the Montoros through marriage is advantageous for Rowling Energy. It would be fitting if we suited each other. That’s the only reason I agreed to meet you.”
Ouch. That was kind of painful. Was she actually disappointed his motives for this pseudo-date nearly matched hers word for word? Well, not really, but no woman liked to find out a man was only interested in her connections. At least he’d admitted it up front.
All on the table, indeed.
“Yeah. I get that. My father pretty much insisted that I get on a plane and fall in love. Not necessarily in that order.” Her lips twisted into a grimace automatically. “Since we’re on the subject, would you really go through with it?”
“Marriage, you mean?” A shadow darkened his gaze though his eyes never left the road. “Rowling Energy is on the brink of gaining a starring role on the world’s oil stage. Our alliance makes very good sense. My assumption is that you thought so as well.”
“Wow.” Bella blinked. Had he memorized that careful statement in one sitting or had he repeated it to himself in the shower for the past week so he could get it out without stumbling? “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
If she’d ever had any shred of doubt about her ability to tolerate an arranged marriage, it had just been crushed under the heel of Will’s ambition. There was no way she’d marry anyone unless the words deliriously happy, scorching passion and eternal love entered into the conversation about a hundred times first, and even then, vows would be far, far in the future.
His eyebrows rose slightly. “Meaning?”
She rolled her eyes. “I just hadn’t pegged you for a romantic. That’s all.”
“It wasn’t intended to be romantic,” he explained, and she had the distinct impression he really thought she’d needed the clarification.
As nightmare dates went, this one hit the scale at about eleven point five. So much for being herself. Check, please.
“Will, I have a confession to make. Instead of seeing the sights, I’d really like a ride to Del Sol to visit my great-aunt Isabella.” She blazed ahead before he could say no. “She’s very sick and I’d like to see her. The timing is terrible, I realize, but my mind is just not where it should be for this outing.”
Hitching a ride hadn’t been her intent when she’d called him, but a savvy woman knew when to cut her losses and she might offend Will if she screamed bloody murder in his ear...which she might very well do if forced to spend five more minutes in his company.
This was not going to work out. Period. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a horrible marriage to a coldhearted man, as her mother had been. If it didn’t make you happy, why do it? Why do anything that didn’t have fun written all over it?
“No problem.” Will checked forty-seven points of the car’s position and did a U-turn to head to the interior of the island. “I sensed that you were distracted. Glad to know the reason why.”
Yet another reason they would never work—obviously Will read her about as well as she could read Spanish. She’d been the opposite of distracted, but only because she’d been hoping for a scrap of information about James, God knew why.
“Yeah, I’m a mess. My aunt has Parkinson’s and her prognosis is...not good.” Bella left it at that and choked back the wave of emotion for a situation she couldn’t change